Get Under Your Skin
by artemis1186
Summary: Sequel to "Kill of the Night" If Derek wanted him then Derek was going to get him. Stiles was going to make him rue the day he ever went after his family.
1. Chapter 1

Relationship(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Allison Argent, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey/Danny Mahalani, past Jackson Whittemore/Lydia Martin

Tags: Alternate Universe, dark Derek, Mental manipulation, magic Lydia, mention of past character death (canon and non-canon), stalking, non-consensual touching, mates, lots of non-consensual everything really, angst

Sequel to "Kill of the Night."

**Get Under Your Skin**

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"You don't have to do this Stiles." Lydia's grip on his arm tightened desperately. "We'll think of some way to protect him, I promise."

"He went after my Dad, Lydia. You of all people should understand why I have to go." Lydia sighed before slowly releasing him and wrapping her arms around herself instead.

"Of course I understand. That doesn't mean that I have to like it." Stiles smiled at her sadly and pulled her in for a hug. She resisted for a moment, arching backwards away from him in an attempt to distance herself, before finally giving in and squeezing him so hard he thought she might have cracked his ribs.

Stiles buried his face into her hair for a moment and just breathed in. She smelled like the air before a summer storm. Warm, bright, sharp with the smell of ozone. He released her reluctantly and stepped back. Through the window to his right he could just make out the machine that was helping his Father to breathe. The sound was steady and reassuring but it still made his heart clench painfully.

"I'll be careful. I'll make him pay for everything that he's done." For a moment Stiles could see the doubt reflecting in her eyes but she masked it expertly after only a second. He could almost make himself believe that he had never seen it at all.

"Take Scott with you." Stiles shook his head immediately but he stilled when he caught sight of the shine in Lydia's eyes. "Please Stiles. I don't know how much good he'll do but you need back-up. I promised I would stay here which means that Scott's the only one left that's even remotely qualified to deal with this." Stiles nodded before he was distracted by the rapid staccato of his Father's heart. He shifted to go in but it had evened out again before he had taken a step. Stiles unclenched his hand slowly and when he turned to face Lydia his face had hardened.

"I have to go. Call me if anything changes, okay?" Lydia tore her own eyes away from the glass and caught Stiles with them.

"Call Scott." Stiles nodded and headed toward the exit. "I mean it Stiles!" Lydia's shout was muted as the door closed behind him.

Stiles had no intention of involving Scott in any of this. He refused to lose another person he cared about to the destructiveness of Derek Hale's obsession.

He pulled the zipper of his hoodie up and headed west. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek's pack was already tailing him but he had faith that they wouldn't act without Derek's express permission. He also knew that Derek wouldn't give them that permission until he was sure that Stiles had finally hit rock bottom.

Well fuck that. Stiles was tired of waiting. He was tired of watching everyone he loved be destroyed. If Derek wanted him then Derek was going to get him. Stiles was going to make him rue the day that he ever went after his family.

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He made it to his house without interruption. He slipped inside soundlessly and immediately went to the trunk in his Father's room. The shotgun felt light in his hand and Stiles smiled fondly as he remembered the first time that his Father had ever taught him how to shoot. It had been just after his Mother was killed and Stiles' Father had insisted that he was only teaching him because he wanted him to feel safe again. Stiles knows now that his Father knew more than he let on about the Hales. Now Stiles knows that his Father was preparing him for war.

Well Stiles was ready (or as ready as he was ever going to be). He grabbed a backpack from the closet and started loading it with wolfsbane bullets, mountain ash and throwing knives. In anyone else's hands the knives would have been pointless to bring along but Stiles had been practicing. He could blind a bird at twenty feet which meant that he could sure as Hell slow a werewolf down.

Fifteen minutes later found Stiles standing at the bottom of the staircase. He paused for a moment and his eyes caught the edge of one of the oldest photographs in the house. It was one of his Mother and Father at the beach when Stiles was three. Stiles Dad was smiling at the camera but Stiles' Mother was caught in profile as she grabbed for Stiles' little arm as he started taking off down the beach after a seagull. Stiles' chest constricted as he looked at it and for a second he was almost overwhelmed with the feeling of loss. The moment passed though and Stiles glued himself back together again before he walked out and locked the door behind him.

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The streets were silent as Stiles headed through downtown. The hospital loomed ahead of him like a beacon in the night. To an outsider Stiles merely looked like a young kid heading to the hospital prepared for an overnight stay. Backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the street surreptitiously Stiles hoped that Derek's pack fell for the guise as well.

Sure enough, two minutes away from the hospital entrance, Stiles heard a howl to his right that was quickly answered by a howl to his left. Stiles tensed instinctively before he bolted. He headed east but was quickly redirected south by the chorus of howls behind him. Stiles almost smiled. Everything was going to plan.

His cell phone vibrated tersely in his pocket and Stiles knew that Lydia had heard the howls as well. Stiles knew that if he lived through this Lydia would be waiting to punch him in the throat personally. Stiles wasn't worried though because if he made it through this alive he would gladly punch himself in the throat.

He hung a left onto Sycamore and paused for just a second to rummage around in his backpack. Right about now Boyd, Erica and Isaac should be about ¼ mile behind him which meant that he had about a minute and a half to make it to the warehouse district to set up his final stand. Stiles turned right and started running again. The sound of his blood pumping was loud in his ears but the thrill of possible victory sang through his veins. If he could make it to the second floor he would be able to take out at least two of them before Derek even arrived.

That was when he heard it.

_AaWwwHoooo_.

Stiles heart almost stopped. The hair on the back of his neck startled into attention and Stiles foot slipped out from under him. He hit the pavement hard and skinned his hands but shoved himself to his feet almost immediately because there was no time to lose. The thrill of victory had vanished at the sound of Derek's howl and Stiles felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. The top of the warehouse appeared through the maze of buildings and Stiles pushed himself harder. The sound of clawed feet on asphalt picked up behind him as Stiles cleared the first building. Two more howls sounded and Stiles tried to block it out. He could see the door. He could make it.

He cleared the door running and skidded to a stop as he threw the mountain ash behind him. It landed in a solid line across the door frame. Stiles' lungs were heaving as he braced his hands against his knees. The mountain ash gave him a few minutes at best and Stiles straightened as he tried to locate the stairs. They were off to the left on the far side of the room. Stiles could still make this work.

He took a step. One step.

"You were so close Stiles."

Everything went black.


	2. Skin

Relationship(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Allison Argent, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey/Danny Mahalauni, past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Lydia Martin, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Danny Mahalauni

Tags/Warnings: Non-Consensual Touching, Torture (Psychological and Physical), Blood, Gore, Vomit

Chapter 2- **SKIN**

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Stiles' return to consciousness was not kind. His body jerked awkwardly and his neck snapped backwards so fast he thought he might have broken something. He groaned and opened his eyes.

The door to the warehouse was directly in front of him and he could just make out the sound of angry howls behind it. The line of mountain ash lay unbroken along the ground. Stiles tried to crane his neck around but the action caused an almost immediate need to vomit so he stopped.

"I'm disappointed in you Stiles." Derek's voice sounded from his left and Stiles tensed briefly before forcing himself to relax against his bindings. "I expected a much better chase."

"Yeah, well I can't be good at everything now can I?" Stiles glanced to his left and was greeted by Derek's red gaze cutting easily through the gloom. Stiles swallowed convulsively against the memories that those eyes evoked.

"You always did have a mouth on you." Derek stepped closer then and Stiles noticed that he had one of the blades from his backpack in his hand. His eyes trained in on the glint of silver like a moth to flame.

"Is this the part where you tell me that you could put it to much better use? Because I have to say man, that is so cliché. You should really work on your material." Stiles flinched as Derek moved soundlessly and appeared in front of him. He grabbed Stiles chin roughly in his hand and wrenched his neck forward. Derek leaned in so close that Stiles could feel his breath against his lips.

"You should think before you speak. Next time I might have to take your tongue." Derek slid the blade softly across his cheek in warning. Stiles closed his eyes for a minute to regain his composure.

"You're the one who chased me. If you wanted some meek little cub to turn then you picked the wrong guy." Derek chuckled darkly as he released his hold on Stiles' chin and moved around behind him. He draped himself heavily over Stiles' back.

"I don't think anyone said anything about turning you." Stiles tried to turn and meet his eyes but Derek stopped him easily with a hand on the back of his neck.

"Then why are you doing this? What's the point? To kill me? Torture me? Why?" Stiles anger grew the longer Derek kept silent. He deserved to know why his entire life had been brought to ruin. All these years he thought that it was because Derek wanted to turn him so that he could add to his pack. Now Stiles didn't know what to think.

In his rage Stiles had failed to notice that Derek had repositioned himself off to Stiles' right. Derek regained his attention with a firm grip on his upper thigh. For a second Stiles forgot he was tied to the chair and he attempted to lunge at Derek. In reality, all he managed to do was force Derek's hand higher up his thigh and cut off his own air briefly as the ropes constricted against his chest.

Derek pushed him back into the chair with his free hand. "Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. If I tell you where's the fun in that?" Stiles scowled at him darkly in response. "And besides, why does it have to be just one of those things?" Derek's fangs protruded as he smiled and Stiles had to work to stifle a shiver. "You know, it took a lot of planning to get you here. You should feel honored that I went through all the trouble."

"Honored?" Stiles spit the word out as if it was poison on his tongue. "Honored that you decided to try and kill my whole family? Yeah, I feel really honored, you fucking asshole." Derek's claws ripped through the leg of Stiles' jeans and he hissed sharply at the pain. The blood welled up quickly and spread across the denim like a pool overflowing.

"I've been very merciful so far. You should be thankful." Derek sunk his claws a little deeper before finally releasing his leg and standing. Stiles gaped at him openly.

"You really are completely insane aren't you? I mean, I was pretty sure, but this, this definitely confirms it." Derek brought his hand up to his face slowly and began to lick the blood off. Stiles glanced off to the side and caught sight of his ruined thigh. He took a few heavy breaths in through his nose and fought down the bile rising in his throat.

"I'm not crazy Stiles. Not really. I'm just focused. And you just happen to have gained my attention." Derek circled around towards the door and paused for a moment to listen to his pack whining outside. He stared, disgusted, at the mountain ash on the floor before he made his way back towards the chair. "Do you know what I want Stiles?"

Stiles laughter sounded sharp and incredulous. "If I knew what you wanted I'm pretty sure this conversation would have ended a while ago."

Derek smiled at him and ran his fingers through his hair. It clumped together awkwardly as the blood that was left over spread sticky and thick. "What did I say about that mouth?" Stiles felt the blade swipe hazardously across his lips before it pushed insistently into his mouth. It tasted salty like sweat and tangy like copper. Stiles swallowed the bile down again and held very still. "Last warning." He slid the blade out smoothly and for a second Stiles thought he was going to retreat again. Instead he felt a sharp tug as Derek grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled.

The legs of the chair lifted backward slightly as Derek used most of his strength to keep Stiles off balance. Half of his body strained forward to keep him from bashing his head on the floor while the other half strained backward to ease the pressure of Derek's fist in his hair.

"God, you look good like this. All stretched out and struggling. I would fuck you right here if I thought you were ready."

Stiles huffed slightly as the pressure increased. "Ready?"

Derek let go abruptly and kicked his chair hard to level him out. Stiles barely managed to catch his feet on the ground to prevent a forward fall. His thigh contracted with the strain and more blood gushed out. The entire top half of his jeans was now the color of dark coffee.

"Yes Stiles, ready. You're not ready for me yet." Stiles stared at him incredulously as he replaced the blade in Stiles' bag. When he stood up again he was empty-handed. "I'm going to cut you free now. You are going to stand up and break your little mountain ash line and I am going to leave. You are not going to follow. Understood?"

Stiles mouth dropped open and for the first time in his entire life he couldn't find anything to say. Derek approached and unsheathed his claws beside Stiles' face. "I said. Is that understood?"

Stiles nodded wordlessly and sat still. Derek cut the ropes in the back with one smooth slice. Everything fell away at once. Derek waited patiently while Stiles regained the feeling in his hands. Once the pins and needles had stopped he stood up shakily. His thigh protested immediately but for the moment he just pushed it aside.

Derek gestured for Stiles to move ahead of him.

It took a full minute before he could reach the ash line because he had to drag his leg behind him. When he finally got to it the betas outside had gone silent. Stiles debated for a moment whether he was making the right decision. Ultimately he decided that if he had survived the Alpha he would probably survive his betas and he waved his hand swiftly across the line. It separated haphazardly and Derek stepped forward. He opened the door and took a step outside.

Stiles mouth opened before he could stop it. "That's it." Derek paused and turned. Against the dark of night he looked like something out of one of Stiles' comic books. "You try and kill my Dad, you kidnap me and cut me up and then you leave."

"Yes." Derek smiled at him and in the light of the moon Stiles could see the blood stains on his once-again human teeth.

"Why? What was the point?" Stiles anger was flooding him again and for a second he entertained the idea of hobbling back and grabbing his guns. He knew realistically he would never make it but it made him feel better anyways.

"I told you Stiles. Try and keep up." Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles stared back at him in confusion. "You're not ready yet."

"What does that even mean?!" Stiles hands were clenched in fists now. He was tired of talking in circles. He wanted answers Goddammit and he wanted them now.

"You're not broken. Not yet." Derek turned and started to transform. Stiles grabbed the side of the door to keep him upright.

"You'll never break me."

Derek's chuckle, when it came, vibrated heavily in the air. "You're already cracked Stiles. How much more do you think it will take?"

Derek finished transforming and loped off towards the outskirts of the warehouse district. The shadows of the betas followed soon after until Stiles was finally alone.

His brow furrowed in frustration and pain as he looked down at his damaged leg. He followed his own blood trail back towards his backpack and finally pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket. Derek's words circled like a swarm of flies inside his skull.

"_You're already cracked Stiles."_ Stiles pushed two on his speed dial and Lydia's smiling face appeared in the corner.

"_How much more do you think it will take?"_ Lydia answered on the second ring and after he told her where he was she insisted that Scott would be there in less than five minutes to pick him up. He hung up and slumped into the chair. He felt like his strings had been cut.

"_You're not ready yet."_ Stiles heard the sound of squealing tires in the distance. It wasn't until Scott's worried face appeared through the doorway that it finally hit Stiles like a bowling ball to the chest.

He was going to kill them.

He was going to kill _all_ of them.

Stiles threw up everywhere just as Scott reached for his arm.


	3. Is that blood on your hands?

Relationship(s): Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Isaac/Danny, Vernon/Erica and past Jackson/Lydia

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Isaac Lahey and Danny Mahaulani

Warnings/Tags: **Major Character Death**, angst, blood, violence, psychological warfare, nightmares, vomiting, Dark!Stiles

Summary: A good deed leads to devastating results.

**Chapter 3: Is that blood on your hands?**

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**Two months later…**

_Stiles heart was racing. He could feel the woods closing in around him. _

_Sounds. Sharp and echoing in the darkness of the forest. Stiles ran faster._

_Suddenly a light appears ahead. Stiles stumbles on a root but pushes through the pain of a twisted ankle. _

_A howl, bloodthirsty and deep, is the only thing that catches on the edges of his mind. The only thing he feels is chest-crushing fear. _

_The footsteps are louder now. The howls morph into laughter. It sends a wash of fear down his spine and makes him feel like unfortunate prey. _

_The light ahead is brighter. It almost blinds him with its brilliance. Stiles feels the sweat pooling and cooling as it hits the night air. His feet hit asphalt and his pace picks up. _

_A car horn sounds behind him and he swivels his body to avoid the hit. His feet stumble awkwardly but they begin to right themselves almost immediately. _

_Then everything changes. The car ahead has not stopped to check on him. There is a flash of teeth on the edge of the woods that distracts him and he trips. He goes down hard. The skin of his hands rips and tears. Blood streaks the black and his heart drops. There is hot breath on the back of his neck. Teeth at his throat._

_Stiles closes his eyes against the inevitable. His mouth opens on a scream as he feels the teeth tearing into his throat…._

Stiles wakes up to the sound of his own choked off screams. The phantom pain of the bite lingers on his skin and Stiles pushes himself up and towards the bathroom to make sure that it was really just a dream.

The light clicks on loudly as Stiles checks his neck in the mirror. His face is pale and he can see the sweat marks along his back and neck spread out like rain puddles. He clicks the light back off.

His chest has finally stopped heaving by the time that he leaves the bathroom. His feet drag as he winds his way back to his room. Outside his door, Stiles' Dad is leaning against the frame awkwardly. The cast on his arm shines out like a beacon in the dark.

"Everything alright?" His voice is sleep deep and Stiles feels guilty that he woke him up as well.

"Yeah. Fine. Just a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" His Dad pushes himself forward and Stiles reaches out to steady him as he wobbles slightly.

"Maybe tomorrow. Still too real right now, you know?" Stiles' Dad nods and pulls him into a quick hug.

"I'm here if you need me."

"I know Dad. Get some sleep." Stiles walks with him back to his room and makes sure that he takes some more pain pills before he settles back into bed. He closes the door on his way out and pauses as he eyes his door down the hallway. Suddenly he doesn't feel much like sleeping.

He makes a u-turn and heads downstairs instead. The house is quiet and Stiles leaves all but the light in the kitchen off. He turns the television on just to have the background noise and turns his attention back to his nightmare.

It wasn't the first time that he had experienced it. It wasn't even the third time. At least this time his mind had offered him a reprieve from the sight of Jackson's mangled body on the lacrosse field. The most disturbing part of the dream had been that shift from memory to dream.

Stiles had gotten lucky that night when that car had stopped to check on him. If it hadn't then he probably would have ended up as he had in his dream. Dead.

However, maybe dead wouldn't have been so bad. At lease if Derek had killed him that night then he wouldn't have endangered everyone that he loved. He wouldn't have to worry about stepping out of his house. Life would be simpler if he had just let Derek kill him.

Stiles shook his head to clear it. This wasn't helping. And besides, whose to say that Derek would have killed him that night. Stiles only thought he was going to kill him because he had killed Jackson in front of him. He thought he had been running for his life that night and in a way, he had, just not the way that he thought.

Now he knew that Derek didn't want to kill him. At least not before he got something else from him first.

Stiles shivered and grabbed his red hoodie off from the back of the couch. He slid it on and pulled his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them in an attempt to comfort himself but it didn't help.

A thump from outside causes Stiles to jump about a foot off from the couch cushion. He recovers quickly though and rushes upstairs to grab his mountain ash bat and to wake up his Dad.

* * *

It takes approximately five minutes for Stiles and his Dad to suit up. His Dad is still groggy from the painkillers but Stiles is sure that the adrenaline is helping to push through the fog.

He has his bat in both hands and a pistol filled with wolfsbane bullets shoved into a thigh holster. He's also got his trusty knife shoved into his boot. His Dad has a shotgun strapped to his back, a revolver in his shoulder holster and an Uzi resting lightly on his cast. Stiles gestures to him to check the back while he heads for the front door.

Stiles opens the door wearily and glances out. For a moment it looks clear. The street is quiet and the other houses on the block are all dark. That's when he sees it. There is a shape curled into a ball at the edge of the driveway. Stiles breath catches in his chest and he inches his way out through the doorway.

All of his instincts are screaming at him to go back inside and shut the door. His heart is telling him that someone is in trouble. "Fuck" Stiles whispers. He lifts the bat higher and heads down the stairs. The figure at the edge of the driveway is groaning now.

As Stiles gets closer he notices that his Dad has comes around from the back and is gesturing at him to stay put. Stiles shakes his head and waves him back. He can hear his Dad telling him not to be a "Stupid Bastard" but Stiles just smiles and approaches cautiously.

By now Stiles has gotten close enough to see the long gashes that are littering the figure's back. The fabric of his t-shirt is shredded and his skin looks raw. Stiles winces in sympathy and steps closer.

Luckily the figure had managed to make his way inside the wards or else Stiles would seriously be debating whether he would be helping him or not. Stiles wasn't heartless but he also wasn't stupid. He could recognize a trap when he saw one. This felt like a set-up but at least Stiles knew that the man before him was human or else he wouldn't have been able to cross the wards. And if there was one thing that he could handle it was humans. Just to be safe though he set the mountain ash bat on the grass and pulled out his pistol. It may be filled with wolfsbane bullets but they killed humans just as easily. It also gave him the ability to keep the human at arms length.

Stiles closed the distance and reached a hand out. The guy groaned in pain as Stiles rolled him onto his back. For a moment Stiles froze in shock. Once that passed he knelt down and yelled for his Dad.

Danny's face didn't look much better than his back. It was bruised and bloody. There was a cut above his eye that was still bleeding sluggishly and the front of his chest had the same claw marks as his back. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lip was split. Stiles could see the blood coating his teeth and his hand came away from his shoulder sticky with tears and blood.

Stiles Dad was crouching down on the other side of him and Stiles locked eyes with him worriedly. "Do you know this kid?"

"Yeah, it's Danny. I go to school with him. We're friends. Kind of. He helped me rig that camera on the end of the street. Stiles' Dad nodded in acknowledgement and set his Uzi down on the grass beside him.

"Well, lets get him inside then." Stiles nodded and went to leverage Danny up by his armpits.

Stiles almost dropped him when Danny's good eye suddenly opened. "Danny? Can you hear me? Who did this to you?"

Danny was quiet for a moment while he seemed to gather his wits. "All I remember is coming home from school. I think someone must have knocked me out." Danny clutched his side suddenly and moaned in pain. "Please help me."

Stiles only thought about it for a second before he grabbed Danny under the arm again. "Alright Dad on three. One. Two. Three." Stiles' Dad used his good arm to leverage Danny up high enough for Stiles to throw Danny's arm around his shoulders. Stiles hauled him into the house while his Dad picked the bat and Uzi up from the front lawn.

* * *

"So you don't remember anything?" Stiles had settled Danny down onto the couch and his Dad had gone upstairs to grab some of his pain pills.

"No. Like I said, I remember walking home from school and then nothing. It just went black."

"Did you hear anything?" Stiles handed him a glass of water and grabbed the pills from his Dad from over his shoulder.

"Footsteps. That's it. I didn't really think anything of it." Danny sat up a little and swallowed down the pills. He relaxed back into the cushions and closed his good eye.

"I'll get you some ice for that eye. Stiles why don't you come up heat up some soup for him." Stiles nodded and patted Danny's knee awkwardly before he headed into the kitchen. Almost as soon as he had cleared the doorway his Dad pulled him aside. "Something's wrong here."

"I know. Any ideas?" His Dad was silent as he ran through all the possible scenarios.

"It could be a trap. Or a distraction. Nothing's adding up though. You said you were friends?"

Stiles nodded and bit at his lip. "Yeah, I guess. We don't know each other that well but he's a good guy. He's helped me out a few times."

"Does he know about your connection with Derek?" Stiles shook his head immediately but then paused. Did he?

"I don't know. I don't think so. When I asked him to help me with the camera I just told him it was for a social experiment. That I needed to measure the influx of people on my street and compare it with crime rates." His Dad nodded thoughtfully beside him. After a minute he went to grab some ice from the freezer.

"Maybe we're over thinking this. Maybe it wasn't Derek. Or if it was then maybe he just wanted to show us that he can get to anyone." Stiles nodded in agreement. It made sense. Derek was unhinged and his rationale was probably compromised. After all, it had been almost two months and Stiles had not seen hide nor hair of him.

The full moon was closing in but there had been no significant increase in pack movement in the last few days. This attack was, quite simply, out of the blue. Nothing made sense.

"I don't know why he did or if he did but I do know that Danny needs medical attention. Obviously we can't do that until morning, but I'm pretty sure there is still a bunch of gauze and peroxide upstairs. I'll fix the soup if you go grab that stuff." The Sheriff nodded and headed out of the kitchen with the ice pack. Stiles heard the start of a muffled conversation and headed toward the pantry. He grabbed a can of chicken soup off from the shelf and grabbed some Tupperware from under the sink.

After he threw the soup in the microwave he headed back to check on Danny.

The couch was empty.

Stiles stomach twisted unevenly for a moment. "Danny?"

No response. His stomach twisted a little more violently. He headed for the stairs.

"Dad?" His voice got louder as he ascended.

"We're up here Stiles." Danny's voice floated down the stairs from the bathroom. The fear that was caving Stiles chest in eased. He released his death grip on the railing and jogged the rest of the way. When he reached the landing he noticed the bathroom light illuminating the wall on the far side of the hallway.

As Stiles got closer his heart started beating a little louder. His throat was getting dry but his palms had started to sweat. "If I knew that you were going to have to drag him upstairs Dad I would have just gotten the stuff myself." Stiles tried to make his laugh seem less forced but he's pretty sure that he fails miserably.

It's quiet for a moment before Stiles hears Danny's reply. "Don't worry you're Dad did fine. But I think we might need your help to get the gauze on."

Stiles was almost at the bathroom door now. "How did he get you upstairs anyway?" Stiles stepped into the light and froze.

Stiles could just make out his Dad's legs hanging limply over the side of the bathtub. Danny was standing by the mirror examining his swollen eye. Stiles body coiled, ready to strike, when Danny turned.

He was holding a serrated blade in his right hand. Stiles eyes widened in shock and he stepped forward out of an immediate need to see if his Dad was alright.

The blade flashed in the pale bathroom light. "That's far enough." Stiles stutter stepped but pressed forward regardless. The knife moved whip fast and Stiles felt it slice awkwardly through the flesh on his stomach. He stopped his progress.

"Why?" Stiles' voice sounded dry and rigid. He swallowed again to return the moisture. "Why are you doing this?"

"For Isaac." Stiles shook his head in confusion and flattened his hand harder to stem the blood flow.

"Isaac? What…" Stiles mind was running a mile a minute. None of this made sense. Danny hardly ever saw Isaac let alone spoke with him. What the hell would Isaac have to do with any of this? "I don't understand."

Danny shook his head. He looked disappointed. "And you're supposed to be the smart one." He switched the blade to his left hand and herded Stiles out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. Stiles glanced nervously behind him to try and get a better view of his Dad. Danny rolled his eyes. "He's not dead. Yet."

Stiles gritted his teeth angrily. He knew his eyes probably looked positively murderous but that didn't seem to faze Danny at all. "Why don't you explain it to me then?"

"Isaac is my Mate. He said he needed help to make his Alpha happy so I offered my services. You know, I knew Lydia was clever but those wards, man those wards are genius." Danny led Stiles toward the bed and made him sit. Meanwhile he took a seat in Stiles' computer chair.

"Your Mate." To say that Stiles was shocked would be an understatement. He had heard the term Mate bandied around wearily (usually by Allison when she was discussing tactical advantages) but he had never actually heard anyone confirm that they actually had one.

For the longest time Stiles had assumed that Scott and Allison were Mates but Scott had explained a little while back that Mates were something that were fated not something that you could decide for yourself. Not all werewolves had Mates either. It was supposed to be a supernatural bond that increased the strength of both parties and bonded them to each other for life. One could not survive without the other. That was why Allison saw them as tactical advantages.

Mates were a werewolf's greatest weakness. But they were also their greatest strength. Stiles cursed himself for not doing more research on them. Maybe then he would have been able to tell if there were any outward signs. Maybe then he would have known that Danny was a traitor.

"Yes, my Mate. I would think that you would know all about them by now." Stiles frowned at him in response and Danny started laughing. He laughed so hard that Stiles could see more blood starting to spread across Danny's ruined shirt.

"Did he do that to you?" Stiles gestured at his wounds and Danny glanced at them passively.

"Don't change the subject Stiles."

"It seems like a pretty important subject Danny. Why would you want to stay bound to someone that does something like that to you?"

Danny snorted inelegantly. "You're one to talk."

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Danny eyed him suspiciously for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise.

"You really have no idea do you?" Danny stood then and started closer. The blade was still out but he seemed to have forgotten about it. Stiles certainly hadn't though and he watched it carefully out of the corner of his eye.

"No idea about what?"

"Why do you think Derek is doing all of this?" Stiles shrugged.

"I don't particularly care why he's doing it I just want him to stop." Danny shook his head and paced agitatedly in front of him. He stopped suddenly and Stiles had to lean back in order to avoid the knife slicing his throat.

"You're his Mate."

Stiles brain stopped functioning. His mind powered down completely for a solid two minutes while he absorbed this new information. Suddenly every conversation that they had ever had, every meeting and pain filled second spent in his presence, made sense.

"You're insane." Danny snorted and looked ready to reply when Stiles held his hand up. "Not your theory. I definitely believe you about that. Makes total sense. I mean that you're insane for ever agreeing to be Isaac's Mate. I never took you for a masochist Danny."

Danny's eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed. "I'm not crazy Stiles. I've simply accepted that Isaac is my perfect match. You don't know him like I know him."

It was Stiles' turn to snort. "No kidding. Those Pack meetings must be a real blast." Danny's eyes slid away from his for a moment and Stiles cocked his head in question. That was when it hit him. "He doesn't know about you does he. Derek. If he did you would either be dead or part of the Pack." Danny's jaw clenched in reply and Stiles saw his grip on the knife tighten. He wasn't ready to let it go yet though. "How do you hide it from him? Does Isaac make excuses about you two being study buddies? Or do you just avoid touching each other all together? How can you devote yourself to someone when you've never even touched them?"

"Some things are deeper than the physical Stiles." Danny's voice was ice cold and Stiles had to work to suppress a shiver.

"You really are insane. Both of you are. He will find out. You have to know that. And when he does…" Stiles left it open-ended because he knew that Danny could fill in his own blanks.

For a second Danny looked afraid. Then he just looked determined. "Why do you think I'm here?" Stiles frowned. "Leverage Stiles. How thankful do you think Derek is going to be if Isaac and I deliver you to him? Gift-wrapped." Danny took a step closer and Stiles tensed up.

"I don't think Derek knows the meaning of the word thankful." Stiles tone was whip sharp and Danny flinched unconsciously. "Besides even if you do deliver me what makes you think that Derek won't kill you for getting your scent all over his _property._" Stiles spit the word out hatefully but his words delivered the desired effect.

Danny pulled back a little and the knife wavered. Stiles didn't think before he acted.

He lunged for the knife and managed to catch Danny by surprise. The knife flew out of his hand and knocked noisily against the bedroom wall behind them.

They wrestled for a moment before Stiles got the upper hand. It wasn't hard considering how badly injured Danny already was. Even if he might have been stronger with Isaac's bond it wasn't helping him since he was still human and the blood loss had kicked in. Also, Stiles might have kneed him in the groin. Purely by accident of course.

Stiles took one more swing and caught Danny directly under the chin. His head snapped up and it was over. Stiles slumped down beside him for a split second before he hauled himself to his feet and stumbled down the hall toward the bathroom.

He leaned against the doorway and felt his breath hitch painfully in his chest. Wearily he leveraged himself around the corner and stepped inside.

His Dad was lying, unmoving, in the bathtub.

Stiles could feel the sob building like a wave in his throat but he fought it down ruthlessly. He leaned over the tub's edge and stretched his fingers out to check for a pulse.

Nothing.

He checked again. He switched sides and then he searched his wrist. He leaned over into the tub and tried to feel his Dad's breath on his cheek. There was no movement. No breath.

Stiles leaned backwards, dizzy with grief and almost smacked his head on the toilet. He braced his hands on the floor behind him and stared silently at the bathtub.

His Dad was dead. After everything that they had been through, after everything that they had survived together. He was dead. Stiles was alone.

The sobs broke free like water from a dam. He cried harder then he had ever cried in his life.

His eyes reddened and stung and his throat was sore but the tears wouldn't stop. Stiles curled his arms around himself and began rocking. He couldn't stop. His body was shaking but his mind was shut down.

Then, from outside he heard a howl. One. Lone. Howl.

Stiles stopped shaking. His body straightened and he hauled himself up from the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look at the bathtub again so he closed the door on the way out.

He headed downstairs, grabbed his pistol, and retrieved his knife from his boot. He might not have been able to reach it before but Stiles knew now that it was still going to serve its purpose tonight.

He headed back upstairs.

Danny was just beginning to regain consciousness. He groaned audibly and tried to push himself up from the floor. Stiles gave him a helping hand.

He hauled him up by his shirt and steered him down the stairs with a grip in his hair. He struggled half-heartedly until Stiles jammed the blade of his knife sharply into his side. He froze and then submitted wordlessly as Stiles threw open the door.

Isaac was standing just outside the ward line. He paced nervously until he saw Stiles' grip on Danny and then he froze.

"Stiles." Stiles led Danny down the stairs and paused out of reach. Isaac looked afraid. Stiles could only imagine what Danny looked like. Perhaps he shared the same look that his Dad had before he killed him.

Stiles grip tightened subconsciously as a new wave of vicious hate rolled through him.

"You killed him. He was everything to me and you killed him." Danny tensed visibly in his grip and he tried to squirm around to catch Stiles' eyes. Stiles wouldn't let him.

"It was an accident Stiles. I never meant to actually kill him. What would that gain me? Please, it was an accident." Danny had started to cry. Stiles could hear his breath hitching and his shoulders were shaking. Stiles didn't care. The only thing that Stiles felt right now was a powerful need for vengeance.

No, not vengeance, justice.

His Father deserved justice. Stiles slid the blade a little harder into his side and Danny whimpered pitifully. Isaac was growling impotently on the other side of the ward line.

"What should we do now?" Stiles directed the question at Isaac because Danny was too consumed by his tears.

"Let him go. Please. You don't have to kill him. We'll leave. You won't ever see us again. I promise." Isaac was pleading now. He was pushing fruitlessly against the ward line and whimpering quietly.

Stiles looked at him through dead eyes. "If he dies, you die. Isn't that what you said? Why shouldn't I kill two birds with one stone?" He twisted the knife counterclockwise and felt it scrape against a rib. Danny was nearly incoherent in his pain now.

"Wait!" Isaac was throwing himself at the barrier now. Stiles laughed, hysterical. His own tears were building behind red eyes again. "You don't want to do this."

Stiles tightened his grip. "Don't you dare tell me what I want to do." His voice was not his own. It was venom rich and blade sharp. It was entirely alien to him and he wondered briefly if this was who he was now. Crazy in his grief.

"Think about it. If you do this you will be just like Derek. A murderer. Can you live with yourself? Knowing that you're playing right into his hands? He'll own you after this. He'll be one step closer to breaking you."

Stiles' smile was positively chilling. Nothing but a bearing of teeth and malice.

"This whole town is full of murderers." He glanced at Danny who was still crying (though silently now) and then across at Isaac. "What's one more."

The blade was suddenly slick in his grip. A river of red gushed over his hand and he heard something howling desperately in the distance. He looked dispassionately down at the red covering his hands.

The blade slipped out easily. It went in again from the front like a knife through butter. He pulled it out and released his grip on Danny's hair. He fell forward lifelessly.

Isaac was on his knees on the other side of the barrier. He was deathly pale and clutching his sides. "What have you done."

Stiles walked closer and studied him. "That was for my Dad."

"You're a murderer." Isaac's voice was getting quieter and his body was slumping forward helplessly.

"Yes." Stiles was suddenly very tired. His bones felt like liquid and his neck was covered in sweat. His stomach felt like it was being tossed violently like a ship on the sea.

"You…" Isaac's voice faltered and his head flopped uselessly forward. Stiles reached out and brushed the hair from his forehead. It smeared red. Stiles jerked his hand back.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped free before he could think about them. He watched as Isaac's eyes started to slip shut. His chest shuddered and then fell still. Stiles scrambled backwards and his hand slipped in the blood that had pooled on the grass beneath Danny's body. He twisted sideways and heaved into the grass.

He went to wipe his face off with his hand and had to throw up again as the blood caught on his lip. They were dead. He had killed them.

His Father was dead. They had killed him. Stiles brain flickered like a bad bulb from one thought to the next. It didn't settle on anything, just flashed past like a slide show.

Derek would know. He was just like Derek now. He had killed him without a thought. He had killed him. There was so much red. How would he explain this to everyone. What was he going to do now?

Broken.

He was broken.

Stiles mind stopped.

No. **NO**.

He wasn't broken. He was his Father's son. He was strong. He was resilient. He would make Derek pay for this. For everything. His Father wasn't the only one that deserved justice in this town.

Stiles stopped shaking and straightened up. He picked himself up off from the ground and found his feet. The sound of sirens was getting closer and Stiles steeled himself for the inevitable firestorm of questions that he was going to get.

Eventually he would have to go back inside. He would have to explain what happened and he would have to have someone come inside and clean the house from top to bottom. He would need to bury his Dad.

Stiles heart seized again but he quickly threw that thought to the back of his mind as three squad cars pulled up, lights blazing, in front of his house.

Stiles started down the lawn with his hands up and waited patiently as they cuffed him and then sat him down on the steps by the house.

They went inside and when they came back out they uncuffed him silently and started asking him questions. He answered all the ones that he could before finally the fatigue caught up with him and his entire body started to shut down.

He was loaded into an ambulance and wrapped in a shock blanket. The EMT that was sitting across from him was asking if there was anyone that they could call for him.

Stiles stared at him silently for a moment before he recited Lydia and Scott's phone number to him.

The siren's blared noisily over his head but Stiles blocked it out. He lay down on the stretcher behind him and curled up on his side. The EMT sat silently behind him.

Stiles closed his eyes and let the blackness take him.

He dreamed of bloodshed and screams.

* * *

Author's Note: I purposely left the method in which the Sheriff was killed ambiguous because I wanted to leave a certain level of uncertainty and unresolved questions with Stiles. I realize that Danny was very weak and the Sheriff could have overpowered him, especially if he was already suspicious. However, there are a million ways to kill someone (accidental or otherwise) and I wanted a little bit of mystery to be left with the Sheriff's death.


End file.
